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“Hello, Verity?”
“Yeah - s’that you, Loki? Why the he- it’s three AM. What do you want?”
“Apologies, I had forgotten - time zones don’t exist on Asgard.”
“I hate that you’re not lying.”
“You’re typically not the only one. Regardless, I have a favor that I need to ask of you.”
“Does it involve letting me get back to bed?”
“Your flight wouldn’t be for another fourteen hours.”
“Well, that’s enough time t- flight to where, exactly?”
“Paris. I’ve got another mission… and as it turns out, I’m in need both of your skills, and your company.”
“Who do you want me to check for you - can’t you just have them call me?”
“Well, for the reading part, yes, that would be simpler. If the invitation that I procured hadn’t called for myself, plus one. It’s going to be quite the event.”
“So you called me at three in the goddamn morning to ask me out to a party? Are you out of your mind?”
“Arguably, yes. However, you’re the only person on Midgard whom I trust to this extent.”
“That’s just ‘cause you can’t lie to me.”
“Yes. Exactly. Will you come? I’ve arranged all the expense for you - travel, lodging, attire…”
“Fine, fine. Just hang up and email me the tickets. See you soon.”
Verity set her cell phone down on her nightstand as her head crashed back into her pillow.
Loki was at the airport, waiting for her. He looked like his usual self - a lean man in his early twenties, with dark hair slicked back just long enough to look rebellious. Of course, Verity assumed that he was wandering around under the guise of some illusion or another - and from some subtle hints of his body language, it was clear that if nothing else, he was playing a part.
The pair left the airport quickly; Loki had advised Verity to pack light, and so she only brought a backpack of the essentials with her. Verity tried to ask questions as they walked, but Loki responded only with, “Not yet,” until they were safely seated in the back of a limousine.
Loki exhaled in relief, and Verity - although she couldn’t see anything - could tell that he had dispelled the illusion. “So, Verity. You want to know what we’re doing here?
“In two days, there’s going to be a ball in town - and only those who have been invited are even going to know about it. Oh, it will be magnificent! The creme de la creme of European society, all dancing and mingling under one roof,” Loki’s eyes practically lit up as he spoke. “Now, despite this being one of my favorite events of the year, there’s one guest in particular whom I need to get answers from.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. No heists, no theft. Just good-old-fashioned questions and answers.”
“Are you going to tell me any more?”
“I had considered it, but I think it’ll work better if I keep the rest of the information private, at least for now.”
“If you say so.”
“Regardless, one of the items on our agenda? Well, I do hope you’ll forgive me, but your attire?” Loki made a hand at Verity’s sweatpants and tank top. “Let’s just say that we’re going to need to go shopping.”
Verity stopped walking, not believing the name on the shop that Loki was strolling into.
“You sure we’re in the right place?”
Loki paused at the door, holding it open. “Of course. We’re going to the biggest party in Europe, and we need to look the part.”
Verity blinked as she read the sign again - it wasn’t a lie. “And where precisely is all your funding coming from?“
Loki simply flashed a smile - a little strained, and Verity glared at the trickster who was about to lie to her. “Oh, that’s all been taken care of.” Dodging the question, unfortunately, was not the same as lying. “Come on, I need to you meet someone.”
The store was smaller on the inside than Verity expected - only a few mannequins with what she assumed where very modern, elegant and expensive dresses. Loki had already strolled up to the only other soul in the building, a woman his height, hair almost grey and wearing a plain dress of the same color.
Loki exchanged a few words of French with her, before turning to Verity. “Verity, this is Madam Brodeur. She’ll be helping you find a dress that matches both your eyes and your arms,” Loki said, gesturing at Verity’s tattoo sleeves.
Madam Brodeur wrapped an arm around Verity, leading her into the back room. “Come, my dear. We shall make you dazzling.” Verity looked back at Loki, but a smile from the god reassured her.
Once the two of them were gone, Loki heaved a sigh of relief and let his body relax into the form that it had been trying to become. Loki was dressed in his standard Asgardian green scale mail - it offered less protection than some of the other outfits that his kin wore, but it more than made up for it in flexibility. Relaxing, Loki reached out, feeling the fabric on the dress that caught his eye - a dazzling red and black ensemble, designed to resemble flames as the strategic sequins caught the light. Loki's imagination wandered, captured fully by the dress, to the point where Verity walked back into the room without Loki noticing.
“Oh, hey - you’re female again,” Verity said. Loki’s face flushed - and she quickly regathered herself back into a male form, and turned away from Verity. “I… I’m going to- do you want to talk about this later?” Verity reached out for Loki, brushing his forearm, and Loki gave her a look before jerking away.
“Perhaps,” he said, not lying. “But let’s focus on why we’re here.”
“… Right.”
Madam Brodeur strode back into the room. “So, the dress will be ready this evening - I need your address for delivery and, of course, your payment.”
Loki inhaled, exhaled, and turned around to face Madam Brodeur with his trademarked smile - a forced one, Verity noted. “Madam, of course. I have the address here,” Loki pulled a piece of paper out of his coat pocket, “and payment will be handled in the usual way.”
“Oui, monsieur. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“Oh, I see no reason why I won’t.” (Lie) “I hope you the same as well.” (Truth)
Loki, thought Verity, didn’t live as though money were no object. Instead, Loki simply lived life, and money, simply, was no object. Verity had once asked Loki about the state of his finances, and he gave her a blank expression. It was a joke, of course, but as it turned out, between his magical powers and love of heists, Loki was able to throw down more money in a single evening than most movies earned in their entire theater run.
Verity typically tried to not think about it, but it was kind of hard not to when she was in a penthouse suite in the middle of Paris, drinking wine that cost more per bottle than a car. In her daily life, Verity never thought of herself as poor - she was able to afford a decent Manhattan apartment, after all - but this was on a completely different level.
Loki had been mostly quiet since they had left the dress store - they hadn’t had to make any other stops, so they had just turned into the room for the rest of the afternoon. Loki had spent most of it playing Skyrim on the suite’s large TV and avoiding conversation. After two hours, Verity had turned to her phone, fact-checking random Wikipedia articles.
She was in the middle of a particular aggravating edit was on a page about an internet movement - a hate group that had tried to give itself a coating of legitimacy by pretending to care about journalistic integrity - when Loki finally shut the game. She looked up to see him sitting there, controller on the coffee table, hands together and his head resting on them.
After a few minutes of silence, Loki finally spoke.
“So, how long have you known?” His voice was quiet, uncertain, but both of them knew what he was referring to.
“A few months. I’d been sensing that you’d been lying to me, but I couldn’t figure out what for a while. Then I remembered the caper you pulled with Lorelei, and it all clicked.
But that’s not all there is to it, is there?”
Loki looked up at her, eyes wavering, exposed. “Do you mind if I-?” he asked, and Verity simply nodded.
Loki’s body shifted again, back into its female form. Verity smiled, “Feeling better?”
“Yes, extraordinarily. I… apologize, it is occasionally quite difficult to maintain that form without a certain amount of discomfort.” Loki slumped back into the couch, her face not yet smiling, but relieved. Verity nodded, and tapped at her phone.
“Here, you might want to read this,” she said, handing the phone over to Loki.
“I’m… my stress was not from a lack of knowledge,” Loki held out a vertical hand, denying the phone. “It’s… well, it’s more about how most people treat the genderfluid.”
Verity raised an eyebrow. “Wait. You were worried I’d have a problem with it? Especially after I came out to you?”
“I’ve had experiences to say that that might be an issue, yes.”
“Here - or back where-ever you’re from?”
Loki looked at Verity, but through her. “Both. I know myself, and unlike you Midgardians, I do have the ability to change my form. But, there are always… those who are not as openminded as others. Asgardians, as a rule, have a firm sense of self. Whatever, whoever, you choose to be, you must do so with every fiber of your being. Those of us who occupy the blurry edges, however….” her voice trailed off, and Verity took the opportunity to slide over and put an arm around her.
“Well, you’re safe here, now.”
“Thank you, Verity. Tomorrow’s going to be… interesting.”
“You’re male on the invitation, aren’t you?”
Loki sighed. “Indeed.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“Well, as much as I don’t want to spend tomorrow in a tux - do not get me started on those, you’ll never hear the end of it - I fail to see a better outcome.”
Verity grinned wickedly. “And that, my friend, is why you’ve got me.”
The next morning, Loki and Verity wandered out along the streets of Paris: Verity focused on her smartphones’ GPS, and Loki just enjoying the experience. The sights, the sounds, the smells were new and fresh for her, and Loki found it in her heart to giggle at a pair of pigeons fighting over a bit of bread crust. Verity stopped suddenly, checking a sign on a store front against the name on her phone. Loki - distracted by a rather over-extravagant bit of confectionary in a shop window - just barely avoided running head-long into her friend.
“Head up, girl. We’re here.”
Loki looked up at the sign, down at Verity, at the merchandise in the window, and back to Verity again.
“This is a tuxedo store.”
“Yes.”
“I am quite obviously not the intended customer,” Loki said, gesturing at her chest.
Verity smiled. “Not quite,” she said and led Loki inside.
“I hadn’t imagined.”
“You know, for a legendary trickster and someone with ridiculous magical powers, you’ve got a very limited imagination when it comes to fashion.”
Loki rolled her eyes. “No, my weakness is just underestimating you mortals.” She twirled around in her tailcoat, tailored perfectly to show off her figure. “Hm. Still missing something.” Loki called her blade forth, and held it upright before dropping it. Verity flinched, closing her eyes and waiting for a loud sound that never came. When her eyes re-opened, Loki’s hand rested on top of a slender cane, black with a green knob on the top. “There we go.”
“WARN ME NEXT TIME.” Verity threw one of the pillows from the couch at her friend, who exaggeratedly pretended to dodge.
“If you insist. Now, my dear, shall we? I believe our limo awaits.” Loki turned to look at her before positioning her arm to grab Verity’s.
Verity looked down at her outfit - an elegant, sleeveless dress that managed to be form-fitting without being revealing. It was beautiful, and she had noticed that Loki couldn’t keep her eyes off it - regardless of whether or not it she was wearing it.
“No, no. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.”
Loki turned back around. “Hm?”
“We need to switch outfits,” Verity said, already undoing the clasps over the zipper.
Loki smiled. “I… thank you.”
The pair strode out of their limo - Verity extending a white-gloved hand to Loki, who gingerly stepped out in Verity’s heels (Verity was pretty sure that Loki had molded her body to be the same size as hers on purpose, but Verity was not in the mood to get a definite answer.)
“You remember who we need to talk to, right?” Loki asked, maintaining her demure smile even as she spoke.
“Do elements of an abelian group commute?”
“I’m assuming that means yes.”
“I’m going to need to throw a group theory text book at you sometime.”
“As long as you don’t hit me in the face.”
“No promises, but I can try.”
“Oh, and trust me? The seafood here is not nearly as good as it could be. Stick to the cheeses.”
“Trust you? You’re the one in the dress. You’re the one who needs to trust me.”
“You’re just lucky I do.”